


The King He was Born to Be

by Cheeseydare



Series: Reign [2]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: !BookJon in Both Appearance and Temperament, F/M, Jon Loves when Dany is Strong and In Control, Jon and Dany were the power couple we deserved, Jon is named Jaeron, Jon still isn't Aegon, Minor Dadvos, More Conversation that Should Have Been, More of the Smut that was Promised, Rhaegal Deserved All the Love, So He'll Always Get it From My Fics, Targaryen Unity, all the incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-14
Updated: 2020-01-14
Packaged: 2021-02-27 14:07:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,723
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22248376
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cheeseydare/pseuds/Cheeseydare
Summary: Jaeron and Dany further cement the future of their House. Truths and meetings, sex and marriage. All the underpinnings of a successful military alliance.
Relationships: Jon Snow/Daenerys Targaryen
Series: Reign [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1631986
Comments: 25
Kudos: 107





	The King He was Born to Be

**Author's Note:**

> Decided to write another piece of fix-it. Have blown through all the stages of grief and am now actively ignoring large portions of the show canon. Anyway, enjoy and thank you for reading! Also, I don't know how much support there is for my theory in canon regarding pre-Rebellion planning/moves, but I've seen it posited in various places and I support it wholly.

Jaeron watched silently as the room around him devolved into bickering and posturing. These were the people who were supposed to lead others? He’d seen more organized conversations held betwixt children. Across from him, Daenerys’ mouth was set in a thin line, her expressive violet eyes filled with fire. She arched her brow at him when they connected, and he took a deep breath to steady himself.

“Silence!” he said, in a volume short of a yell but above his normal voice. His command was so absolute that the drastic change in noise seemed all the more poignant as everyone turned to face him. Jaeron wasn’t sure if it was the wolfsblood his uncle always talked about or the dragon fire in his veins, but he was sure he had never been so angry.

“Are all of you truly this stupid or are you actively trying to get your queen killed? I only ask because I need to know who to execute for treason and who to replace for incompetency. One’s far more permanent than the other, you see,” he said, his voice trembling with emotion.

“Your Grace?” Davos asked, his brow raised in question. The loyal smuggler hadn’t said much in the meeting, as was his wont. The concern for him in his voice and face was plain to see, though, and Jaeron appreciated having the man behind him. 

Jaeron’s eyes found Daenerys’ again, and the approving look both soothed him and fueled his frustration.

“Can anyone tell me with any degree of certainty where Euron’s fleet is? Did anyone think to ask me, as Rhaegal’s rider, whether I thought he was ready for a journey of such distance? I know you all don’t have the bond I share with him, but suffice to say, the answer is no. Dany,” he paused, softening his voice, “the men do need a little more time. A fortnight, no more. Allow them time to properly grieve, celebrate, and recover.”

The resolute nod she gave in return allowed him to know that she understood he meant her as well. He could almost feel the glare he knew Sansa was giving him, but he was beyond caring. The rest of the room seemed equally as hostile and the whole situation almost made him laugh at how ridiculous it was.

He had been born a king and left in obscurity, only to be acclaimed one for who he was, not his name. It seemed people only liked him when he was easily used, but his confession to Dany the previous night and their cemented union had emboldened him. It wasn’t the life he had imagined, but it was his now, and he would live it to the best of his ability.

“No clever words, Lord Tyrion? No songs, Lord Varys? If not, we’re done here. Queen Daenerys please stay behind. Sansa, Arya, and Bran, as well. The rest of you are dismissed,” he stated firmly. The rest of the room grumbled at his words, their pride and egos clearly bruised. Any hope of Dany contradicting him vanished as her eyes stayed locked with his own and the five were finally left alone at last.

The silence was thick as he held his hand out for Dany, who moved to his side to take it. Her strong grasp and comforting presence helped calm his roiling emotions. No matter how confident and sure he was, there was no denying how anxious the impending conversation made him, but it needed to happen.

“Did you need something, my lord?” Sansa asked acidly. Jaeron squeezed Dany’s hand as he turned the brunt of his displeasure on his cousin.

“Yes. I just wanted to tell you how proud I am that you’re continuing the Stark tradition of committing treason,” he said nonchalantly.

Both Arya and Sansa’s jaws fell open at his words and Dany peered up at him with a frown. Bran simply watched impassively, though Jaeron thought he saw him twitch at the words. As someone who could see the past, he wondered whether his cousin would support his argument.

“Don’t act so surprised,” Jaeron continued, ignoring the reddening of anger in Sansa’s face. “Don’t you find it strange that Rickard Stark betrothed his heir to a southerner, the daughter of a lord paramount? His only daughter to another southerner, a lord paramount in his own right? Why wasn’t his spare betrothed to a northern bride, to keep his liegemen happy? Ned was eight and ten when the rebellion started, well past being a man. I would wager it was in case more alliances were needed.

“And the family his heir was betrothed to, betrothed their other daughter to another lord paramount. I admit I’m not an expert at politics, but it seems to me that they were preparing to overthrow their king, with four kingdoms now bound together in marriage, and a fifth wavering towards supporting them. Last I checked, plotting and then executing a rebellion was treason,” Jaeron explained.

“The Mad King was burning people alive! He didn’t deserve the throne,” Sansa stated hotly, glaring at Daenerys.

Dany tensed next to him, her hand squeezing his so tight it hurt. Jaeron simply arched an eyebrow at her. He noticed Arya hadn’t said anything, and there was no emotion on her face, something he was still trying to reconcile with the expressive little girl he had known so long ago.

“Aye, I’m not arguing Aerys was a good king, because he wasn’t. Rhaegar, on the other hand, was by all accounts everything a king should be, so why didn’t they help him to peacefully supplant his father?” Jaeron questioned, a sick sense of enjoyment about leading her into a trap, filling him. His Targaryen grandfather deserved to be hated, but if it was his only legacy, Jaeron was going to cleanse his father’s name.

“He kidnapped and raped our aunt! What are you even saying?” Sansa said, her whole body trembling in outrage.

“Did he? Do you have any proof? Does anyone actually know what happened?” Jaeron answered, shrugging lightly. He spoke again before she could. “Well, I do. And the truth is that he didn’t kidnap her or rape her. She went with him willingly, because Robert Baratheon was the same drunk whoremonger as a young man that we saw when he visited all those years ago. Rhaegar and Lyanna loved each other, and they were married. And they had a son. Me.

“Then, following in his father’s footsteps, your father hid me from the new king, as large a treason as one could commit given that Robert Baratheon was still trying to kill Daenerys _years_ after the rebellion. So, while it may seem natural to you to try and undermine and harm the monarch you’re sworn to, understand this; I will not allow it. If I get even the smallest hint of you overstepping, you will be stripped of all your titles and exiled, Sansa.”

Sansa once more had a stunned expression, but it was Arya who he was watching. His favorite sibling, his little sister, was giving him a fierce look. It was one he had seen before, when Lady Catelyn had called him her ‘bastard brother.’

“Well I don’t care. You’re my brother, before, now, and in the future,” she stated firmly.

He barely had time to disentangle his hand from Daenerys’ before Arya had slammed into him, holding him as tightly as when they had finally met after so many years apart. Jaeron could vaguely feel Dany’s hand as it rubbed his shoulder comfortingly, overjoyed and relieved to still have Arya’s acceptance.

“Well, I suppose congratulations are in order, cousin. The North would, of course, support a king with Stark blood,” Sansa finally spoke after he and Arya had separated.

“Glad to hear it, as Daenerys and I will be consolidating our claims through marriage and taking back our family’s ancestral throne together,” Jaeron replied coolly. “Tonight in the Godswood. We would be obliged for your attendance.”

For the second time the room was silenced. Dany gripped his hand tightly but was otherwise stoic. He knew she was worried about how his other family would handle the news. It filled him with a warm rush of love and affection that even after their less than hospitable welcome she still wished for them to accept her and their relationship.

Once more, it was Arya who took the initiative. She stood in front of Daenerys, fixing her with a penetrating gaze. “You’ve done everything you said you would, so you’re alright with me. If you ever hurt him, though, it will be the last thing you ever do.”

“Believe me, I want only the very best for Jaeron,” she replied evenly, a small but genuine smile upon her face. Arya seemed to weigh her words before she nodded and pulled Dany into a brief hug.

“Welcome to the pack,” Arya said as they broke apart, turning to look at him. “And you! What happened to no wives and titles? Soon you’ll be married and king of the Seven Kingdoms!”

Jaeron found himself pulled into another hug and he relished the love and acceptance of his kin. Though they weren’t brother and sister by blood, they were by choice and upbringing. He had thought her dead or lost for years and knew not to take these moments for granted.

Once Arya finally released him, Bran rolled himself forward. “This was not what I foresaw, but I find it a good outcome. Congratulations.” Though his voice was devoid of nearly all emotion, the firm grip he gave his hand let Jaeron know that his cousin was being truthful. It lightened his heart to see even some of the young boy he had once known.

With one last look at the room, Arya rolled Bran away, leaving Jaeron and Daenerys with Sansa who did not look best pleased. Jaeron sighed heavily as the anger which had driven his earlier tirade faded to weariness he felt in his bones. He was caught between two halves of his family, but he already knew which one he would side with if forced to choose.

Sansa gave them what she probably thought was a suitably restrained look, but to Jaeron she appeared rather vexed. Dany once more held his hand and stood firmly at his side. “You don’t look all that happy with our announcement, Sansa,” she said.

“I am just trying to figure out how I am supposed to convince the North to bend the knee to a Targaryen. There is a long history,” she replied frostily.

Jaeron arched his brow. “What need is there to convince them of anything? They have already named me king. I will marry my queen, reclaim the Seven Kingdoms with her, and finally end the years of bloodshed the Lannisters have wrought with their grasping ways.”

“They named you king because they thought you were Ned Stark’s son, not a Targaryen,” Sansa said. Daenerys gripped his hand and he happily let her take the floor.

“And so because he is Lyanna Stark’s trueborn son they won’t follow him? I admit my father was a horrid man in his last years, but for the preceding three hundred years, Targaryen and Stark co-existed peacefully. Jaehaerys and Alysanne led a progress through the region and helped to expand the rights of women. In times of winter, the Crown ensured food was sent north to ease the starvation when possible. What precisely is the problem?”

“The North has suffered under southern rule. We deserve compensation,” Sansa said. The way she folded her hands and tilted her head reminded Jaeron so strongly of Catelyn that he blinked to make sure it was still his cousin in front of him.

“Everyone has suffered under Lannister rule. Dorne, the Reach, the Stormlands, the Riverlands, the North, and even the Westerlands, dragged through years of war and strife. Only the Vale escaped largely unharmed if you consider the death of the Warden of the East, an acceptable price. There is a reason Cersei Lannister hangs onto the throne by only her fingernails, my lady,” Daenerys answered. Jaeron could feel her almost vibrating with frustration.

There was a pause as Sansa simply glared at them. Jaeron tried to feel compassion for his cousin’s position, but the North couldn’t survive on its own. The people would starve and freeze without aid; aid they wouldn’t be able to afford if they were a separate kingdom subject to higher rates of taxation for goods.

“When do you plan to inform the lords?” Sansa asked calmly, as if the previous argument hadn’t happened.

“Shortly before the wedding,” Jaeron said. He waited until she looked him in the eye before speaking again. “Not a word to anyone else before then or you will be stripped of your title and exiled so fast your head will spin. The only reason I wouldn’t execute you for treason is because of our shared blood. Do you understand?”

She gave him a short nod and left them with false niceties. Jaeron leaned on the table wearily the moment the door shut behind him. The vigor that had filled him earlier, fled as quick as it arrived. Dany wrapped her arms around his torso and leant her head on his shoulder.

“I would drown myself in wine if I had no need of my head later,” he mumbled. Dany chuckled lightly as she slowly rubbed her hands across his chest and back. Jaeron groaned as her hands drifted lower with each pass. “Truly?”

“Mmm, you were magnificent, nephew. A true leader, someone who was born to be king,” she said huskily. She turned and guided him into a chair before straddling his legs. “My king.”

Jaeron struggled to respond as her lips nipped and sucked along his neck. He gripped her hips as she ground herself against his cock. “Shou-shouldn’t we wait ‘til after the wedding?”

Hot breath washed over his ear as she laughed. “I believe it was you who woke me this morning and left your seed dripping from my cunt, was it not?” Daenerys deftly undid the clasps of his cloak and set to removing his gorget and leather cuirass.

His own hands sought the ties holding her winter coat together. He was well versed in the practice now and he managed to remove it and her shift without tearing anything. He spoke between sucking and biting her pebbled nipples. “I believe you quite vocally approved.”

Any response she had was lost as their lips connected in a heated exchange. Jaeron happily let her set the pace. Often their couplings were a balance of give and take, each strong enough to subdue the other, but comfortable enough to willingly give up power with the other.

They broke apart as Dany finally removed his cuirass and gambeson. She scratched her nails down his chest, sending shivers down Jaeron’s spine. Deft fingers loosened the strings on his trousers enough for her to free his aching cock. She grinned at him impishly as her soft hand stroked him.

“Tell me what you want, Your Grace. What can your queen do for you?” she breathed, pressing open mouth kisses along his neck. His hips jerked in response, but she kept the same agonizingly slow pace.

“Fuck, gods, Dany. You, I want you,” he begged. His voice was wrecked with lust and only made her smile grow.

“I want you too. What part of me do you want? My hand? My mouth? My soaked cunt?” she questioned. Jaeron was fairly sure he whined at her words.

“Your cunt, I want your cunt, Dany,” he gasped. She squeezed the base of his cock before standing from his lap.

Jaeron was so disoriented that it took a moment for him to realize what had happened. He only just caught sight of her shimmying her leather leggings off, boots discarded to the side, before she straddled him once more. His head fell back as she undulated her hips, her cunt dragging across his cock.

“Is this what you wanted, my king?” she asked. Even though she teased him, he could hear her breath catch as her nub caught along his length on each pass. Waves of pleasure rolled through him as she continued her ministrations.

Jaeron struggled to form the right words as he met her bewitching purple eyes. Her love for him was plain to see, even had she not been rubbing her desire along his cock. He surged forward, one hand behind her head and kissed her. It was rough and sweet, probing tongues and bit lips. Fire and scale, ice and claw, and everything that they were, but above all their love for each other. Their foreheads pressed together when they divided to breathe.

“In you, Dany. I want you to ride me until I fill you with my seed, as I did this morning and as I will do later tonight. As I will do every day that you let me; I swear I will fuck you until your belly grows heavy with our babe, because you are my Queen, and you make miracles happen,” he growled.

Her eyes widened in response to his heated demand and she stilled her movements. Without warning, she rose up and aligned her cunt before sinking down until he was seated fully within her. Dany’s moan was loud and wanton and he loved her for being unashamed of her pleasure, something he struggled with. Never with her, though, never again.

The past she set was rough and fast. Skin slapped against skin as she lifted just high enough so only his tip remained in her before taking all of him. He gripped her hips in an effort to aid her pace. Her cunt wet and warm and tight and her teasing efforts had already nearly brought him to peak.

Jaeron guided one of Dany’s hands to stroke at her nub. She bit into the junction of his neck and shoulder in an effort to stifle her moans. He murmured lewd encouragement into her ear as she rode him like the dragon they both were.

It was the incoherent strand of Valyrian surrounding his name that let him know she was close. With one last keening wail, she enveloped his cock and peaked. The rhythmic contractions of her cunt pulled him over the precipice as well and he filled her with his seed. It was long moments before they slumped against each other, boneless from pleasure.

“Fuck,” he mumbled, which set Dany into a fit of giggles. Jaeron couldn’t help himself from laughing either, feeling fully relaxed for the first time since the meeting began.

“My thoughts exactly,” she finally said after they regained control of themselves. With a groan she stood unsteadily, and began to pull her riding leathers back on. “I think you may have wrung me out before our wedding night.”

Jaeron smirked lazily as he enjoyed the view of his debauched soon-to-be-wife. “Your stamina has never been an issue before.” She winked in response and pulled her shift on. Jaeron reluctantly righted his pants and stood to retrieve his cuirass.

Once they had fixed their appearances, save for disheveled hair and red faces, they shared one last kiss. Slow and lingering, they broke apart with reluctance.

“Let us go announce our claim to the realm, my king,” she said, giving him a warm but determined smile.

It was hours later that they lay tangled together. Daenerys looked ethereal as sweat glistened along her body, a crown of winter roses woven into her moonlit hair. Jaeron had nearly fallen over when she approached him in the Godswood.

She came to him dressed as she lived, in breeches and a coat, a half cape held up by a three headed dragon brooch. She could have climbed Drogon then and there and his blood had lit anew at seeing her.

The only concession to the soft and loving woman he knew she was existed in the flowers set amongst her numerous braids. The warm smile that blossomed on her lips when she saw him was one he had only ever seen when she was in the presence of trusted and close individuals. Himself, Missandei, Grey Worm, Jorah Mormont when he had lived, and her blood riders.

Jaeron was thankful that the ceremony was so short as he could only focus on her. The feast had been even more raucous than the one the previous night. Davos had made him spit his ale back through his nose when he mentioned 'a successful military alliance.' His Hand been ecstatic in his own quiet way, pulling him into an embrace. Both of them pretended they didn't see the tears in the other's eyes. 

Their announcement meeting had been a close run thing, and he hadn’t been entirely sure they would convince anyone to actually _listen_ to their argument.

It took a combined effort from the pair of them, as well as Arya and Lyanna Mormont to force the bombastic lords to acknowledge that what they had known was wrong. It always came down to pride, though, and Daenerys had been masterful, working the room and winning them over. Despite their trysts earlier in the day, he had been uncomfortably aroused at seeing Daenerys embody the dragon of their House.

His prediction about an excess of stamina had proved true. They had coupled against the wall, on the table, and only finally made it to the bed for their last climaxes. They were both thoroughly spent, but happier and more content than they had ever been.

They were married in the sight of gods and men. They would begin properly planning their reclamation on the morrow. Cersei Lannister would fall, and then they would begin the hard work of rebuilding the Seven Kingdoms. They would, however, do it together, him a king to her queen. As it was meant to be.

Dany had pointed out during the feast that they may have ended up married had they grown up together in the Red Keep anyway. Jaeron couldn’t disagree, but strangely, he was happy with the way everything had worked out. Their love was true and fulfilling and supportive. Not without its struggles, no, but equals who appreciated it all the more for the lives they had lived.

**Author's Note:**

> Only read through this a handful of times. If you catch grammar/typo issues, lmk.


End file.
